Teamwork

*

I suppose this story began to take its shape late in the spring of 1968, which would have made Melissa and me 10, and Melissa’s big sister, Julie, 15 or 16. I forget how much older than us Julie was (is), but she had a princess telephone in her bedroom, a boyfriend, and makeup. And she was old enough to be taking the lifeguarding test at the Country Club.

Well, Melissa and I were plinking out “Heart and Soul” on the yellow-painted upright grand piano in her mama’s kitchen. Dottie herself was smoking a cigarette and drinking coffee from a Louisville Stoneware cup (if memory really does serve), with her teeny feet in penny loafers propped up on the trestle table. When BAM! slammed the screen-porch door and into the kitchen stomped a red-faced, still-damp Julie.

It was a good thing that Julie was Raised to Be a Lady, because if she had not, I wouldn’t be able to write exactly what she said. Thankfully, her brief but furious detailing of the lifeguarding test went like this: “NO I DID NOT PASS THE TEST BECAUSE COACH LAWSON WAS THE VICTIM AND HE TRIED TO DROWN ME!” And then she was gone, up to her room, to put on makeup and talk to her boyfriend on her princess phone.

In Julie’s defense, Coach Sig Lawson was a very big, very strong man. In a small town like Danville, Kentucky, Sig Lawson was a person of note. He coached the Centre College swim team and football team until 1976. And then he went on down to Austin College in Texas.

Let’s fast-forward to late spring 1979 — Centre’s Graduation Week — when it was my turn to take the lifeguarding test, so I could  take a summer job at the Centre pool. I had completed Lifesaving and Water Safety Instruction. I knew what I was doing, but nevertheless, it was a test, and I was nervous. In my own mother’s kitchen, I got a good-luck squeeze from Miss Gigi, and she made me laugh by saying, “Well, at least Sig Lawson isn’t here any more.”

Oh-ho! My Mama really said that? Yes, she did. And you know what happens next, right?

So I was sitting on the edge of the pool with the rest of my lifeguarding class, feet in the water, waiting for our instructor, Ms. Bunnell and her clipboard to get the darn test started. Ms. Bunnell was always cheerful, but this day she was positively bouncy. “Guess what! We have a guest today! Coach Sig Lawson is back to see his seniors graduate, and he has graciously agreed to be our victim!”

Yes, he tried to drown me. We rolled and rolled and rolled and rolled, but just when I thought he’d gotten the best of me, I summoned Julie. And this time, she was not a Lady. She and I punched Sig Lawson in the throat, and gasped, “I…am…tryin’…to…save…your…life!” Then he let me cross-chest carry him to the edge of the pool and drag his horse-size torso onto the deck.

I did pass the test. But, Julie, I couldn’t have done it without you.

*I snapped these images of Coach Sylvan “Sig” Lawson from the the 1976 Centre College yearbook. He’s the big one.